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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569087">Wisdom to Know the Difference</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluv2eat/pseuds/iluv2eat'>iluv2eat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Original work - Freeform, park, past relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:40:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluv2eat/pseuds/iluv2eat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When an old flame unexpectedly appears, Harry's pleasant outing at the park is suddenly thrown in turmoil.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wisdom to Know the Difference</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Summer is a strange time. There’s this itching feeling to do something – anything – and yet, there’s this equally strong inertia, to laze and be putty in the hands of gravity and heat. </p><p>Harry squints at the far side of the park. A figure moves closer; he wonders if it’s headed towards him. Harry is stretched out on the grass, his legs long and brown against the green. He sets the book he’s reading down as the figure, in fact, comes towards him.</p><p>“Hi, Aiden,” Harry says, deliberately relaxed. “It’s a great day, isn’t it?” </p><p>He says it as a hard statement, without leaving an opening to begin a conversation. He smiles at Aiden, too. It’s too nice a day not to smile. It’s sunny with blue sky and nary a cloud. A breeze ruffles pleasantly through his hair. Harry has a fleeting desire for that to be replaced by Aiden’s hand.</p><p>He shakes it off. That thought is dangerous … he’s walked down that path too many times to pretend a rainbow waits at the end.</p><p>Aiden sits beside him. </p><p>“Hi,” he says. </p><p>He has with him, Harry sees now, a tote bag from the Economist stuffed with cans of White Claws and Doritos. Aiden catches Harry looking and offers one. “It’s mango – your favorite.”</p><p>Harry thinks of refusing. But he does want one, and besides, it doesn’t cost him anything. Well, perhaps his pride. But what scores more points: refusing a free drink, or having the person you’re mad at willing to give you something for free? He takes the proffered can with a muttered “thanks.”</p><p>Aiden grins. It’s as if he heard the thought process leading to Harry’s decision. “Are you here with anyone?”</p><p>Harry holds up his book. “Just me and my book.” </p><p>Aiden nods. “Nice.” He hangs that one word out like a hook, waiting for Harry to bite. He knows Harry disliked being baited like this. Now that Aiden’s breached the walls, though, Harry is not going to leave him alone. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Harry says. </p><p>It comes out more aggressively than he intends. Harry isn’t too pleased to have Aiden turning up on his day off, but the man just gave him a free drink. As much of an asshole Harry is, he’s not devoid of manners. He coughs to cover the faux pas and tries again: “It’s a nice day to be outside.”</p><p>Aiden doesn’t seem to mind Harry’s tone. “Yeah.” He opens a bag of chips, pops one into his mouth. “I just want to lie down and enjoy the sun. I feel like every time I get out now, it’s either dark or the fog’s here.”</p><p>“The curse of living in San Francisco,” Harry says. “Carl the frog always crashes the party.” He lays back down again. “At least today’s nice.”</p><p>“How long have you been here?” Aiden asks. “You’re looking a lot more … brown.”</p><p>“Really?” Harry grins despite himself. “I’ve been working on it all summer. I just sit outside and read.” </p><p>“Nice. You’re still living at home, right?” Aiden puts the bag of chips down. “I have a towel in here if you want to lie on that.”</p><p>Harry shifts over as Aiden sets out a beach towel out. He doesn’t want to be in such proximity to Aiden, but he doesn’t want to be sitting on the grass anymore. Truth be told, the way the grass digs against his leg was becoming itchy; he had been planning to stand up and go for a walk before Aiden had arrived. </p><p>“Thanks,” he says grudgingly. “For the drink, and for – ahh – all this.” He gestures at the towel. “How long are you planning on staying?”</p><p>“When are you planning on going?” Aiden asks. “I don’t have any plans today.”</p><p>“Neither do I,” Harry says. “Obviously I need to go home, but my parents are in LA this weekend and I don’t have to be back anytime soon. Well – I guess depends on the train schedule. I’ll check later.” </p><p>“I can drop you off at the station,” Aiden offers. “I actually parked over there” – he points – “and the train station’s not too far from here.” </p><p>“Thanks,” Harry says. “I’ll let you know. I might want to walk and stretch my legs after all this sitting.” </p><p>He’s sitting on the edge of the towel. It isn’t a big towel, and Aiden is tall – fully stretched, he stands at six feet four and 180 pounds.  Harry’s just far enough away to have a few inches of space between them, but he can still feel heat emanating from Aiden’s body. Aiden is always warm; always complaining about how the weather was too suffocating or the sun’s too hot. It’s pleasant for others, though: Harry can’t count the number of times he’s been plastered to Aiden, drunk and clinging to warmth. </p><p>And then there’s that one time -- a memory of heavy panting and skin on sweat flashes through his mind. Harry shakes his head and takes another sip.</p><p>God, this tastes like ass.</p><p>Aiden chuckles. “That means you like it?” Harry hasn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. He scowls. He imagines how it’ll be like if he lets out a belch in response. But he can’t, so he settles for reaching over to take a chip.</p><p>Their arms brush, and for a minute, that flash of memory earlier almost blinds him with overwhelming sensation – the heat from the sun on his skin becoming hot touches from Aiden’s hands grabbing on his arm, the breeze from the wind turning into warm breaths and soft kisses on his neck.</p><p>Apparently his face has gone blank, because Aiden gives him a little shake. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”</p><p>“Thought I lost you there,” Aiden says lightly. His hand still rests slightly on Harry’s shoulder. It’s a small touch, a touch that nonetheless has all the weight in the world. And still … it doesn’t feel heavy to Harry – it feels familiar, a part of him that’s always meant to be there that he’s just forgotten about.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Harry says. He blinks. It must be sitting out in the heat for too long, he concludes. That’s the only reason why he’s acting so odd right now. That and simple nostalgia. Summer is peculiarly suitable for memories to resurface … the lazy breezes and the cloudless brightness draw out recollections of eras long past. Time ceases to have any meaning under the unchanging blue sky. </p><p>“Don’t want you to have a heat stroke here,” Aiden says. “I have a bottle of water in the bag too, if you need any.”</p><p>Harry shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks. Probably just sitting here too long got me a bit spacey. Also drinking on an empty stomach.” </p><p>“That’s even more reason why you should have some water,” Aiden chides. He sounds remarkably like Harry’s parent right now. An uncomfortable thought, given Harry and Aiden’s relationship.</p><p>“Okay, fine!” Harry knows better than to argue when Aiden takes that tone. Aiden’s like a dog at a bone -- just keeps on digging and digging until he gets what he wants. The trick is to give in or distract him with another more attractive prospect. In this case, Harry gives in. He knows which battles to pick. </p><p>Aiden smiles. “I know you’re just doing it to stop me from being annoying.”</p><p>“At least you know you’re being annoying,” Harry huffs. Aiden’s right, though: the water helps. It’s cool and refreshing against his lips. He swallows before speaking again. “Thanks for that, though.”</p><p>“No problem.” Aiden scrutinizes Harry’s face. “You feeling a bit better now? Have some more chips or something.”</p><p>Harry lies back on his arm. As he does, his shirt pulls up an inch, revealing a strip of firm abdomen. He swears Aiden’s eyes track it as he stretches out again. He doesn’t bother to pull it down. Truth be told, he’s starting to enjoy Aiden’s eyes on him. </p><p>It’s the attention, he corrects himself. He likes the attention – God knows he’s been starved of it for the past week, stuck inside the house with no company but his succulents. They’re growing well, despite his tendency to water them when he’s restless. Unlike succulents’ need for water, Harry’s desire for attention only grows when more is given.</p><p>He thinks Aiden’s feeling something too. How could they not be? The balmy weather, the idyllic settling, the tickling of the grass, the long legs stretched out from the too short shorts…. Aiden beautiful, Harry can’t deny that. They’ve always been attracted to each other, since the first day they met…. Aiden’s eyes are glazed and filmy in thought. </p><p>“Hello?” Harry waves in front of Aiden’s eyes. “Who needs some water now?” he teases. He’s more relaxed now, the alcohol and Aiden’s insistent hospitality having blunted his aggression. Harry hasn’t forgotten he’s supposed to be angry with Aiden. But on a day like this, it’s too difficult to stay mad – it wrings all the negativity out of you like water from a towel. </p><p>Aiden gives a look of mock annoyance. “Haha, funny.” He wrinkles his nose. A group nearby is smoking. The heavy scent of clove cigarettes mixed with marijuana is thick; besides him, Harry ineffectually fans at the smell. </p><p>“Gah, makes you think of college again, doesn’t it?” Harry throws another can of white claw at Aiden, who catches it with athletic ease. Three years of corporate life and sitting behind a desk has not dulled his reflexes. </p><p>“Nice catch.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Aiden leans back, an Apollo in Arcadia. Harry always marvels at the ease which Aiden makes his surroundings blend in for him. He’s only wearing a white t-shirt and black shorts, but he looks as if he could be posing for a magazine shoot. “Do you smoke?”</p><p>“Sometimes.” Harry shrugs. “Weed or nicotine? Well, not much of either anymore. The smell gets to me. I just take edibles now. Much easier.”</p><p>Aiden nods. “Gotcha. We met the first time during a smoke break, right?” </p><p>“Actually, it was at work,” Harry says. He’s mildly annoyed that Aiden has his facts wrong. “Orientation, in fact.” </p><p>“Oh…” Aiden leaves the sentence trailing, though Harry thinks he caught a glint of mischievous pleasure. “Well, we did take lots of smoke breaks.”</p><p>“You took the smoke breaks. I took ordinary breaks.” Harry had accompanied Aiden, mainly because he wanted to be out of the office. He disliked being inside, where the air was stale and the atmosphere even more so. He’d usually lean against the wall, watching Aiden attempt to blow smoke rings and fail. Sometimes, he’d run to the bakery across the street for a pain au chocolat and a latte before hurrying back as his colleagues trickled back. He’d offer a piece to Aiden as they headed back up in the elevator. </p><p>Aiden laughs. “Yeah … you don’t really smoke, do you? Only socially.”</p><p>“Only when someone offers me one,” Harry says. “It’s rude to refuse anything free. That’s my rule.”</p><p>“Life motto?” Aiden smirks at Harry. “I’ve seen you at after-hours dinners. Don’t know how you still stay so skinny.”</p><p>Harry scowls at Aiden. “Okay, working late does make me hungry.” His head starts to feel heavy as a lazy drowsiness wash over him. He yawns, wide and loud. “… and I guess lying around in the sun makes me a bit sleepy.”</p><p>“Take a nap,” Aiden suggests. He gestures around. “Lots of people are doing it.”</p><p>“Oh, what’re you going to do then?” Harry hasn’t expected he’d be talking to Aiden that long. He had assumed that conversation with him would perfunctory and short, that Aiden would disembark for his friends. Instead, Aiden’s still here. </p><p>Aiden shrugs. “Relax.” He points with his chin at Harry’s book. “Might read that, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Oh … no. No, I don’t.” Harry was at a loss for words. He tries several times to form his thoughts into coherent sentences. “I don’t want to keep you if you’re meeting friends, though.” Harry doesn’t want to imply that Aiden has worn out his welcome, nor to suggest that he himself isn’t desirable company. And now he doesn’t want Aiden to go … he needs Aiden to watch his belongings….</p><p>“Oh, no,” Aiden says. He looks as if he knows what Harry’s thinking. Certainly, he could probably guess the tenor of them – Aiden has an uncanny knack for doing so. That is how he won at poker the few times they played together. “Just came here to chill and smoke,” he says as he scoots over. “Feel free to lie down.”</p><p>“Nice,” Harry says, as he’s already laying his head on Aiden’s thigh. Even on this warm day, he can feel the blood pulsing, steady and hot, against his ear. It’s a strangely comfortable position; Aiden’s leg, while lean and long, is surprisingly muscular. Not as comfortable as a pillow but intimate. And it’s not so bad, as long as he’s on the fleshy part. </p><p>It’s nice … Harry puts his hand on it and squeezes playfully.</p><p>“What?” Aiden looks down at him. “Is something wrong?” This vantage point goes well with Aiden. Harry likes to look up at him, he enjoys the emphasis this puts on their contrast in their sizes. Harry isn’t particularly short – average height, dark hair, slim build – but compared to Aiden, Harry’s small. </p><p>“Nothing,” Harry says. He smiles back at Aiden an innocent smile. “Just making sure you don’t skip leg day.”</p><p>Aiden grins back. “Thick thighs save lives.” He goes to pick up Harry’s book. As he starts reading, Harry gives another squeeze. This time, Aiden doesn’t say anything. Instead, Harry can swear he flexes. </p><p>Harry tries to stop his hand from wandering; he really does. His hand, though, has a will of its own. It’s nice to touch Aiden again. It’s a physical reminder that he used to know this body, and a pleasant reminder at that. While Harry’s still dealing with mixed feelings about Aiden himself, he can’t deny that the physical aspect of their interactions is fun, enjoyable. </p><p>Aiden nudges him a bit as Harry’s hand reaches up to the forbidden area. “Hey,” he says. He says it in a chiding tone, though it’s gentle and there’s something playful in it. “What’re you doing? We’re in public.”</p><p>Harry glances up at Aiden. His eyes are bright. Harry feels a pull – that look is magnetic – and draws closer. They’re close now: Harry can see the slight glisten on Aiden’s lip where he licked it, his breath hitting Harry’s face in one soft whoosh. </p><p>They kiss. Harry’s not sure who kisses who first, but later, he’ll claim that he made the first move. Their lips meet. Aiden presses on top of Harry, his body heavy and hard with muscle, the grass prickling at Harry’s back. Aiden’s stubble tickles Harry’s chin, as his hands press into Harry’s arms. Harry doesn’t mind this, this insistent pressure on him.</p><p>They’re lost in their own world. Just them, the grass, the wind, the sun, the sky. To Harry, time has stopped. He’s thrown into this world there’s only sensation. He can feel the blood rushing to his face, to his groin, as he pulls back from the kiss.</p><p>“Damn.” Harry’s a bit shell-shocked. This is unexpected -- Harry came to the park for a bit of relaxation, a bit of reading, maybe a bit of tanning. He hadn’t expected that Aiden, of all people would come and fuck up his plans.</p><p>He doesn’t mind. Though that kiss is like shaking a bottle of soda and popping off the cap. All these feelings – these mixed, confused emotions – is threatening to spill out and overwhelm him. </p><p>“Damn,” Aiden echoes. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Harry says. He is. He’s the one that is angry with Aiden. For abandoning him, for fucking him over. Ans now, even when he’s trying to hold on to that anger, he’s kissing Aiden.</p><p>And enjoying it too. </p><p>“Don’t be,” Aiden says. He grins at Harry, which just makes Harry tense even further. “It was nice.”</p><p>Harry’s fingers tighten on blades of grass as he grips the ground in an effort to control himself from not reacting. He is always the one reacting, being prodded and played by Aiden, who seems to know him better than Harry understands himself. </p><p>“Just nice?” Harry’s always found refuge in sarcasm. “I’m hurt.”</p><p>The kiss sure didn’t feel “just nice” to him. That is one of the problems with Aiden: he’s so closed off. It takes all of Harry’s energy just to reach him, and Harry hates that he always invests so much just to tease a smile or a word of compliment from Aiden. </p><p>The old bitterness wells up in him again, poisoning the relaxed drowsiness of the day. He stares at Aiden’s face. He wants to punch its symmetrical perfection, slap the look of solicitousness and amusement away. Harry also wants to kiss Aiden again. </p><p>He remembers the first time they met. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Aiden. That cocky glint as he fended off an inane question from one of their fellow interns, this girl who only got the slot because her mom was the VP, the way his quiet confidence commanded the room, even the respect given to him from their ostensible boss.</p><p>It might have been due to the fact that Aiden had also obtained his position through nepotism – his parents owned the company. Yet Aiden had behaved like everyone else, working conscientiously and never demanding any favors.<br/>
Harry had been surprised when Aiden came up and asked him to get coffee one day. They had chatted previously, of course -- all the interns were seated together – but Harry had never thought anything of it. </p><p>Harry liked and found Aiden attractive, but he never thought they had any particular resonance. Until they had their coffee.</p><p>Aiden had paid, waiving off Harry’s insistence with a blithe “next time.” </p><p>Harry found that he couldn’t stop laughing — and couldn’t stop wanting to see Aiden again. Which made no sense, because they saw each other every day at the office. But they did, that coffee opening the way for Aiden to ask Harry to join him on breaks, and Harry obliged. </p><p>Loud laughter brings Harry to the present. He looks at Aiden, the jumble of memories and emotions making his head ache. Suddenly, he wishes he drank something stronger than White Claws.</p><p>Aiden just looks back, his expression placid. One hand hangs on to his tote bag, the other next to Harry, but not touching. He doesn’t need to; Aiden’s warm and Harry feels it just as he would if Aiden’s on him. He wishes Aiden is; his proximity is tantalizing agony. </p><p>Harry can’t deny part of their attraction is intense sexual chemistry. He’s not sure why, either. Aiden doesn’t have the biggest dick. Big enough; Harry blushes at the recollection.   But it is the way Aiden was in bed that Harry loves. Alternatively attentive and grasping, sex with Aiden is like being sucked into a black hole of lust.  </p><p>Harry remembers it happened that one night he invited Aiden out for a night with his friends at the club. It wasn’t even a date.</p><p>It became messy. Fast. Harry, prodded into anxiety with Aiden’s presence and his friends’ grating appreciation of him, drank hard too hard and too quickly. He doesn’t remember what happened in between, but he woke up in Aiden’s bed with puke all over the pillow. Mortification made his hangover even worse that morning. It was not Harry’s finest moment. </p><p>Instead of meeting the sight with disgust and anger – which was how Harry would have reacted – Aiden had cleaned and bundle Harry up in a fluffy bathrobe before inviting him to brunch on his rooftop. </p><p>That was when it happened. To this day, Harry marvels at the fact that his libido managed to overcome the headache and the nausea of his hangover. Then again, there probably isn’t a sexier sight than an attractive man bringing eggs and pancakes to a hungover man. </p><p>Too bad Harry never ate them. He had lunged in for a kiss and then ended up doing more on that rooftop.<br/>
“What are you thinking about?” Aiden asks.</p><p>“Us,” Harry answers truthfully. He gives a wry grin. “How we met, how we started hanging out, and how we started seeing each other.”</p><p>Aiden laughs, a deep rumble that seems to shake the desire out of Harry’s belly. “Every time I think about that, I wonder if I should be giving you any more alcohol.” </p><p>Harry wants to kiss that smirk off of Aiden’s face. It’s only by the barest shred of pride he has left that he refrains. He can’t get involved with Aiden. Not again. Not anymore.</p><p>For all his qualities, Aiden has one flaw – his family. Harry had met them once. Unfortunately, they proved stereotype of rich people being rude and snobbish. And what was worse was the way they hounded him to meet every one of their exacting, outdated desires – including marrying a woman.</p><p>It had turned the post coital glow they had when they returned to Aiden’s apartment sour when Aiden explained his parents’ behavior and the need to keep their – whatever their relationship was – discreet.</p><p>Aiden continues looking at Harry. It’s irritating, and yet Harry can’t help but be turned on by it. He knows he’s being ridiculous. He looks at his phone to distract himself. </p><p>With a start, he realizes its later than he expects – he missed his train already. At this rate, Harry would need to call an Uber or stay the night. </p><p>Aiden catches Harry’s consternation. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asks.</p><p>“I missed my train,” Harry scowls. “Because of that nap I took. Fuck.” </p><p>Harry doesn’t want to be stuck in the city, wandering around like a lost child, trying every contact on his phone until someone picks up. He tries to think of someone who he can ask a favor. Not many – one of the reasons why Harry came up to the city and sat in the park alone is because most of his friends are currently out of town.</p><p>Maybe Cat or Sam, Harry thinks. They might still be here. </p><p>“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can stay with me tonight?” Aiden says suddenly. </p><p>Harry stares. He hasn’t expected Aiden to offer that. </p><p>“Uh.” </p><p>Harry doesn’t want to respond. Part of him wants to jump and say yes; another wants to refuse and run. </p><p>“Come on,” Aiden says. His eyes bore into Harry’s. “You know it’s the smartest thing to do. You’re not going to be able to find a train back home and it’s so expensive to Uber back home.”</p><p>That’s true. Harry knows that. But this logic wars with his knowledge that giving in to Aiden now is a disaster for his new resolution to not give in to Aiden.</p><p>Well – that was a resolution easily broken, as Aiden helps Harry stand and guides him to his car parked just a block away. He leads Harry by the hand, the touch light, through the sidewalks, as if they were a couple. No one looks twice at them – they walk in the center of a deeply progressive city that prided itself on its tolerance an acceptance.</p><p>Harry wonders how many do mistake them for a couple. He wonders if they could be a couple. He tries to imagine what the others saw: two people standing too close to be friends, yet just a hairbreadth apart from the intimacy lovers usually exhibit. </p><p>Of course Aiden would be driving a luxury car. Thankfully, it is more low-key than the Porsche he usually drives, but Harry can’t scoff at a Mercedes. The newest model, too. </p><p>Aiden seems to guess the shape of Harry’s thoughts. </p><p>“It’s my uncle’s,” he tells Harry. “I don’t have my own since I don’t usually drive in the city, but I’m going to the wineries tomorrow, so I need it.”</p><p>“Should you be driving?” Harry frowns. </p><p>Aiden laughs. “Nice of you to care. Yeah, I should be fine. I won’t be drinking that much, and there’s going to be a hiking spot. That’s what I’m most interested in.”</p><p>“I do care,” Harry replies, stung. He always has. </p><p>“Are you going to up there to hike or for the wine?” he asks, more to distract himself from the uncomfortable prickly feeling in his chest than genuine curiosity. Knowing Aiden, he is probably capable of both. </p><p>And as expected: “Both,” Aiden says, starting the car. Harry leans back into the plush leather, his eyes watching Aiden’s fingers on the wheels. He has a sudden longing to for those callused hands to be on him, grabbing at him roughly, gripping him hard. Instead, they’re a play of elegance, long and lean like his body, as he drives.</p><p>Harry needs to get laid. That kiss back at the park – it’s short-circuited his mind, and now he can’t stop thinking about sex. Rough, greedy sex where he doesn’t need to hesitate, where he takes as much as he can, and where he gives as much as he has in him. </p><p>Sadly, Harry knows he’s not going to find that on an app or at the club. Not that he plans to visit the club when he has accepted Aiden’s offer to crash for the night. </p><p>Then, before he even knows it, he’s leaning onto Aiden’s side, his breath misting on Aiden’s ear before he kisses Aiden’s cheek. </p><p>Aiden jerks  -- and almost crashes into the blue Toyota in front. </p><p>“Don’t do that,” he hisses, voice sharpened by the rasp of desire as much as it is by the shock. “I’m driving.”</p><p>“Shit. Sorry.” Harry’s not. A deep heat spreads from the depths of his belly, making Harry itchy and uncomfortable, even in the soft seat. He wants to shake off the seatbelt and roll on top of Aiden; he wants Aiden to pin him underneath, pulling Harry’s hair back until he arches, exposing his neck to Aiden’s mouth. </p><p>After skipping a beat, Aiden asks: “Do you want to head back to my place first? To rest a bit before dinner?”</p><p>He doesn’t look at Harry as he asks. Harry notices Aiden’s jaw clenches a bit, and a hint of color rises underneath Aiden’s tan. </p><p>“Alright.” Harry knows they won’t be resting when they go to Aiden’s place.</p><p>Aiden shoots off as soon as the light turns green, almost hitting that blue Toyota for a second time. The driver, an Indian woman, glares and flips them off as Aiden zips past. </p><p>Harry doesn’t care. He’s too intoxicated by the thought of sex with Aiden again. He tells himself that it’s only because Aiden’s already here and readily available, that this wouldn’t mean anything, that would be meaningless fun.</p><p>They park in one of the new condos sprouting up all over the city like reeds out of the muck. Harry’s too buzzed with eager lust to pay much attention, but he sees a clean floor of black marble, a doorman who greets Aiden with friendly deference, and an enormous still life of a peach on the wall.</p><p>Harry touches Aiden, gingerly at first, then with more urgency in the elevator. They keep it tame, only holding hands in case someone walks in, thought Aiden strays more than once up Harry’s back. Harry shivers at the cool fingers and the spots of heat they leave.<br/>
Then it’s into Aiden’s apartment. Harry’s not even distracted by a stunning panorama of the skyline. Aiden’s apartment is like him: clean, masculine lines that’s at the same time somehow comforting. Harry doesn’t catch much else, but he catches the couch, a sleek gray slab of textured fabric and tufted cushions. </p><p>Or rather, it catches him as Aiden pushes him onto it. Harry leans up and kisses Aiden, hard, as his hands fumble with Aiden’s belt. </p><p>Aiden kisses back, leaving Harry almost breathless. His hands tug at Harry’s shirt and Harry lifts his arms as soon as he undoes Aiden’s belt buckle. </p><p>The cold tickles Harry’s skin as the shirt comes off. He’s not cold, though; the low heat that had been pooling at the bottom of his belly spreads like an inferno. Harry’s burning as he pushes his hips up to find friction against Aiden’s groin.</p><p>Aiden holds him down. “So needy,” he murmurs. </p><p>“Shut up,” snaps Harry, but he’s interrupted by a loud gasp as Aiden runs a thumb over Harry’s nipple. </p><p>Aiden’s other hand wanders lower, grabbing Harry’s cock through the fabric of his briefs. Harry struggles to slip out of them, but Aiden doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. His hand grips and massages, and Harry thrusts up. </p><p>Aiden’s touch is almost painful to bear; it ignites on Harry’s skin and he groans. </p><p>Aiden stokes the head of Harry’s cock leisurely. He’s still fully clothed, though his belt’s hanging out and Harry feels at a distinct disadvantage, lying half naked under him. </p><p>Harry pushes himself up to kiss Aiden again. God, he loves kissing Aiden — that heady mix of hardness and soft teasing aroused him like no other. Actually, that’s not quite true: Harry’s quite enjoying himself with his hands roaming all over Aiden’s body. He pushed up Aiden’s shirt and it comes off easily. </p><p>Harry rubs against Aiden. There’s a little gasp – Harry’s not sure if it’s from him or Aiden or both.</p><p>“Let’s get this off,” Aiden says, pulling at Harry’s pants.</p><p>Harry shimmies out of them, this time made easier by Aiden helping him. His penis juts out, achingly hard, and Harry puts a hand on it to stroke himself –</p><p>Aiden removes Harry’s hand. Harry looks at Aiden reproachfully – until Aiden replaces Harry’s hand with Aiden’s mouth.<br/>
Harry’s mind goes blank and his muscles slack at the sudden wet pressure – it feels so good, the lips, the tongue, and Harry scrabbles at the couch cushions, his nails digging into the soft surface. </p><p>With a slick pop, Aiden releases and moves up to kiss Harry. Harry’s fingers work at pulling down Aiden’s pants as their kiss intensifies; his hand grabs at Aiden’s cock. It’s a handful: big and meaty, and Harry can’t resist pulling on it, hard.</p><p>Aiden hisses. In response, he bites down on Harry’s lobe as one hand pumps Harry’s cock, the other teasing the hole of Harry’s entrance.</p><p>Harry squirms – his senses overload – he can’t help but reach up and grab Aiden’s shoulder, his nails scratching skin. In the back of his mind, he thinks that he should’ve cut them – they are long and sharper than usual, and he’s aware that they’re digging into Aiden’s solid back and that they’re going to leave marks.</p><p>He doesn’t care. This feels so good –</p><p>Harry comes, a sticky mess over his chest as Aiden instinctively draws back. Not quick enough; Aiden’s face still catches some of the splatter and translucent white droplets land on his face. </p><p>He makes a face. “Gross.”</p><p>Harry laughs, an exhausted but sated sound. “Sorry. Should’ve warned you. It’s been a while.”</p><p>“Now you have to return the favor,” Aiden says. He grins wickedly, and despite Harry’s spent state, his cock gives an interested twitch. </p><p>Aiden positions himself so that he’s directly over Harry’s face, and Harry sniffs in that smell so associated with sex – the sweat and the musk – as Aiden pumps himself furiously. Harry squeezes Aiden’s thighs as thick liquid erupts and his face gets wet --</p><p>They lie together, catching their breath. Their legs are still entangled together, Aiden’s head on Harry’s chest, the stray strands of his hair ticklish. Harry likes how the light from the city still manages to slip in through the window and glitters on them. It’s dusk now, the sun having set, with the orange hue mixing setting off the flickers of the skyscrapers. Harry wonders what sad soul would be working late tonight; maybe if he looks closely enough, he could see that person typing away. </p><p>“That was fun,” Aiden says, a smile curving on his face. “Guess it was a good idea to come back and take a rest.”</p><p>“You’re ridiculous,” Harry says. “I’m so exhausted I could do with a nap.”</p><p>“Wore you out, didn’t I?” Aiden’s smile turns wicked. “You used to be ready for another round by this time. You must be getting old.”</p><p>Harry laughs. “Aren’t we both?”</p><p>Aiden grins at me. “Speak for yourself. I’m not the one tired.” His hand roams up Harry’s side, teasing. “I am hungry, though. Do you want to order in or eat out?”</p><p>Harry wants to order in. He’s tired, and he isn’t sure he wouldn’t fall asleep at a table in a restaurant. At least here, on the couch, no one would judge if he suddenly begins snoring. </p><p>But he can’t guarantee he would not be distracted with Aiden’s presence. Harry desperately wants to go for round two – and he lied. Harry does have the energy for it. Physically, that is. Emotionally, it is a different matter: it had not just been just sex. Harry’s mental barriers dissolved, and he’s aware that those keening cries of need were more than just physical desire – Harry wants Aiden, body and mind and soul. He wants to walk with Aiden down the street, hand in hand. He wants to go to introduce Aiden to his parents, his sister. He wants to stride into Aiden’s house and kiss him with a wet sloppy kiss right in front of Aiden’s parents. </p><p>But Harry knows that’s impossible. He looks away from Aiden, who’s now on his phone checking the times of restaurants still opened. </p><p>He names one and asks Harry if he was okay with the choice. </p><p>Harry nods, not speaking. It’s hard. It feels like a date. For all intents, it is a date. And Harry knows that no matter how many dates they go on, how great the sex is, that it’s ultimately meaningless. </p><p>“Hey. What’s wrong?” Aiden touches Harry’s shoulder. </p><p>Harry shies away. “Nothing.” His vision’s slightly blurred. Angrily, he blinks until it clears again. </p><p>“Harry.” Aiden’s voice is iron. “Talk to me.”</p><p>Harry wants to say no. He has this desire to scream at Aiden and throw the stupid decorative plate painted with an Art Deco design at the floor. </p><p>Instead, he forces a smile. “Nothing. Just dust in my eyes.”</p><p>Aiden huffs. “You know what? Don’t bother. You’re so good at hiding yourself away. I never know what you want or what you’re thinking. It’s fucking exhausting.”</p><p>“Hiding? You want to talk about hiding? You?” Harry’s voice rises in decibel and he’s aware it’s shrill and grating. “You’re the one who’s hiding the truth. From your parents, from all your friends. Sometimes I think you’re hiding from yourself.”</p><p>“I told you, I have responsibilities.” Aiden also raises his voice. He looks back at Harry, his expression hard and annoyed. </p><p>Harry glares. He wonders how Aiden can justify his behavior to himself, knowing that his family still haunts every decision he makes. The specter of their disapproval is enough to crowd any relationship Aiden’s ever going to have.</p><p> “You’re an adult.,” Harry says. “You need to stop living for your parents and start living for yourself. It’s not like they need you to take care of them. They have people for that. People who are being paid for it that do a damn better job than you can.”</p><p>“You don’t understand.” Aiden’s body is locked and tense now. He twists away from Harry, and Harry’s hurt by this. Harry clenches the cushion.</p><p>“I don’t, you’re right,” Harry says. “But I do know it sucks to have to deal with that. And I do know it sucks that I have to deal with something I don’t even fully understand.”</p><p>“Do you?” Aiden sets his jaws. “You’re such a child sometimes, I don’t think you really understand how the world works. You’re so naïve and you act like everything that goes against you is wrong. We have to make compromises sometimes.”</p><p>Harry sees white spots as he bites his tongue to stop himself from screaming. The hurt turns into anger, and his chest constricts sharply. He tries to erase Aiden from his vision, focuses on the view outside the window. The window itself is floor to length, the electronic shades staying up to let in the view. He sees the table from West Elm, a coffee table in reclaimed wood that can pop up; the lithographs on the wall; the enormous plasma television that faces them. The arched floor lamp hanging over them casts a shadow – sometime during sex, one of them must have hit the switch by accident, Harry realizes.</p><p>It’s a beautiful living room for a scenic apartment for a man who’s meant to achieve greatness in life. It’s also expensive, but Harry knows Aiden probably didn’t even bother to look twice at the price tag when he decorated and bought the furnishings. </p><p>“I’m not the one that’s pretending to be something I’m not so I can live off daddy’s money,” Harry snaps.</p><p>There’s an awful silence. Harry’s aware he’s gone too far. For a second Harry thinks that Aiden might punch him or shout for him to get out.  He would have welcomed it, a burst of glorious anger, instead of this cold mask of control that comes over Aiden. </p><p>“Is that what you really think?” Aiden looks at Harry. Despite the cold indifference, Harry sees a crack of hurt.<br/>
Harry deflates. “No,” he says, and now he’s truly tired. “I don’t think that.”</p><p>“Do you still want to go to dinner?” Aiden asks, warily. He moves away from Harry, carefully untangling their legs as he reaches for his phone charger on the table. </p><p>Harry’s stomach chooses to answer at that moment with a loud rumble. </p><p>Aiden grins at Harry, a touch of his old humor back. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He looks at Harry with a gaze Harry can’t quite figure out. “Do you mind calling the Uber?”</p><p>It’s an olive branch. Aiden doesn’t usually relinquish control so easily: typically, he would insist on getting the car or driving himself, saying that it’s a matter of practicality since he knows the address and he had suggested the place.</p><p>Harry hasn’t realized he’s crushing the cushion until he lets go and it re-inflates with an audible hiss.</p><p>“I’ll call it,” he says. They clean up quickly and dress. Harry’s a little upset at the abrupt ending, but even in more turmoil at their argument. </p><p>They don’t speak on the car. The driver, perhaps sensing the unspoken conflict, turns up the music. It’s some Top 40 trash, and Harry suddenly feels the urge to go out to a club and lose himself in shots of whiskey and dance with cute boys. Boys who won’t ride roughshod over his heart the way Aiden does. </p><p>Aiden had chosen a trendy but intimate restaurant. The lights are turned low, and both patrons and staff speak in hushed tones, as though worried about rousing some sleeping beast. Harry can barely read the menu, and he gives up when they come to take his order, deciding to eat whatever Aiden selected.</p><p>“You’re lucky I ordered steak and not one of the weirder items on the menu,” Aiden says. Harry thinks there’s a wink, but it could be the light. He definitely hears the teasing in Aiden’s voice. </p><p>And suddenly, Harry is ashamed of himself. He shouts and insults the man, and what does Aiden do? Invite him to dinner at an upscale restaurant. Harry knows if someone tries to speak himself in that tone, he would have the doorman drag the offender out within minutes. </p><p>“Sorry,” Harry says, his voice subdued. “I didn’t mean to blow up at you back at your place.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” Aiden says, with a casual wave. “I get it. You’re not entirely wrong. It’s just that – well, my family’s complicated. Maybe one day I’ll change their minds, but for right now … well ….” He shrugs.</p><p>Harry thinks of a quote suddenly: Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.</p><p>But how could one know the difference? Harry’s not a passive person – he’s of the mind that anything, barring the laws of physics, can be made to conform to his desires with enough time and effort. But perhaps Aiden’s family is as immutable as fixture of nature. </p><p>“Sorry,” Harry repeats. Then, in an even smaller voice: “I don’t mean close myself off. It’s just – well – hard, because sometimes it seems like we want such different things. I can’t help trying to stay away when I know I’m not going to get what I want.”</p><p>“How do you know we don’t want the same thing?” Aiden asks quietly. “If you don’t talk to me about it, how do you know I don’t have the same goals as you?” His eyes challenge Harry; they’re bright and dilated in the dark.</p><p>Harry knows that restaurants dim their lights for exactly this purpose: dilated pupils signify attraction and arousal. He tells himself that it’s the physiological manipulation by the environment that’s causing Aiden to look at him like that. </p><p>But he fails, because Harry knows it’s not exactly true. Harry knows that on some level, Aiden feels just as strongly for Harry as Harry does for Aiden – it’s just that complications prevent them from managing these emotions in a healthy way. </p><p>The food arrives, thankfully, breaking the tension between them. Harry digs in, not realizing how hungry he actually is until the steak touches his lips. </p><p>“Guess I made the right call,” Aiden says, watching Harry eat.  Harry doesn’t respond, his mouth full.</p><p>“Look,” Aiden says, “can you trust me? Please, Harry.”</p><p>I do trust you, Harry thinks. He stops chewing. I just don’t trust myself when I’m with you. </p><p>Aiden continues: “Give me a chance. We have to play it low-key for now, but this city’s big, and we can continue to be together.”</p><p>The offer’s there. Should I take it? Harry stares at Aiden from across the table. It would mean being the dirty secret, being introduced as ‘a friend’ – and doesn’t that hurt. </p><p>Yet Harry can’t resist Aiden. Harry can handle this: he’s had flings before. That’s what he’ll treat this as – a fling. Just because Harry won’t be introduced to Aiden’s friends and family doesn’t mean they can’t have sex. They’ll have sex – probably lots of it to make up for the fact they won’t ever be a real couple. </p><p>And that’s all Harry wants right now, he tells himself fiercely. That’s all he can handle right now. </p><p>“Okay, fine,” Harry says finally. “But just to let you know, you’re paying for dinner tonight.”</p><p>Harry will pay for the next one. That’s how it usually is with them: this back and forth that never seems to end. </p><p>Harry hopes that it doesn’t end.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The quote is from Reinhold Niebuhr's Serenity Prayer: </p><p>"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,<br/>courage to change the things I can,<br/>and wisdom to know the difference."</p></blockquote></div></div>
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